TACO (Trump Is a Weakling)

A fierce, timely takedown set to an undeniable chant.

Aug 18, 2025

This one was inspired by the commentary of Simon Rosenberg, who points out that Trump’s popularity and poll numbers are at historic lows and his shows of force are evidence of his weakness. Credit where credit is due: The “big blubbery babyman” phrase was coined by Simon Rosenberg, publisher of the Hopium Chronicles, which I encourage you to subscribe to.

Scroll down for the lyrics, links, and alternate genres of this song.

Lyrics

“Day One, I will end the war”, that is what you sold,
Long before you touched down, your pledge had grown mold.
You demanded a cease-fire; Vlad slow-walked the talk,
You brought back nothing, just a staged tarmac walk.
You traded U.S. prestige for a headline to tout,
Putin set the table; he took you out.“
Played like a fiddle,” Pravda crowed,
You crave the image but won’t lift the load.

Trump is a weakling (shout it out)
Trump is a weakling (no doubt)
T.A.C.O. (Trump Always Chickens Out)
Trump is a weakling (that’s the line)
Trump is a weakling (every time)
T.A.C.O. (Trump Always Chickens Out)

You rolled the red carpet for war criminal’s grin,
You traded our standing for a shot on CNN.
You sided with a dictator, kissed the ring,
Bent the knee; a lapdog, a plaything.
You cosplay a “strongman,” you big blubbery babyman,
Retreating to your room to slather on your orange tan.
You call it “peace”, it’s surrender dressed in spin,
You get the photo; Putin banks the win.

The real man’s name is Zelenskyy; jacket green,
Blood on his soil, his country a war-crime scene.
Putin’s brutal invasion; his people bore the horror,
Zelenskyy in the breach, declaring, “no more.”
No velvet rope, no carpet, no pomp,
While two cowardly war pigs wallow in the swamp.
Ukraine fights for truth, justice, and sovereignty,
Meets that grim calamity with nobility.

Your tariffs hit the checkout, prices climb,
We pay it at the register, each hard-earned dime.
Your parade rolled past; the trombones played it flat, (SAD!)
Empty boots, empty boasts, who’s proud of that?
You pitched mass deportations; the people shouted (NO!),
You sicced ICE on neighbors; secret-police show.
Even diehards peel off under scandal’s revolting stain,
The Epstein Files hit headlines; you change the theme again.
Mind in a fog and the temper paper-thin,
Slower on the steps; weak without, weak within.
Pose for the photo; the truth you love to flout,
All hat, no cattle; always chickening out.